True Inversion
by Domenic
Summary: AU. The inner workings of a ‘verse in which Buffy's the Master Vampire, and Spike's the Slayer. UPDATE: CH.2 ADDED!
1. Chapter 1

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Title: True Inversion

Rating: PG-13

Genre: General

Summary: The inner workings of a 'verse in which Buffy is a Master Vampire, while Spike is the Slayer, though never with a grand cause in mind—just a deep interest in the world's supply of onion flower, bad TV, etc., etc...

Notes: Completely ripped the title off a Fullmetal Alchemist community on livejournal. Will try to make this big, of course. Definitely doing a minor crossover in the foreground, which will probably grow into something large eventually—I suggest just keeping an eye on William's mom, all right? (He'll get the name "Spike" in due time. ) And, you know…just pay attention to the details, some may pan out into something else entirely. (Not that this entire story's set in stone…but I have the general idea, even if there will probably be plot upheavals later.) Pairings are…actually undecided. ; Big thing to remember: AU, AU, and AU...and right now, Spike will pretty much be the center. ;

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I just love Spike. And Buffy. And Drusilla. And Dawn. And...

Chapter 1

William didn't particularly care for his appearance, but he dealt with it by feigning apathy, or at least trying to.

He was unbearably short, ridiculously scrawny, and coupled with still very childish features—well, it was easy for many to confuse his age for something well under fourteen…who wouldn't be turning fifteen until late May which seemed terribly far away all the way from autumn. His hair was blonde, dirt and honey colored; other than tying it up in a small tail—it was a little too long—and trying to hide the poodle curls by keeping it exceptionally unkempt and wild, the boy didn't really manage his hair…if only because the concept hadn't really registered with him yet. His eyes were…well, they fell under the aforementioned category of being too childish: they were a bright blue and possessed a tendency to go very wide when the occasion called for it.

He had learned long ago to run, the fine art of dodging and hiding, and the occasional biting when it came to the obvious matter of bullies. Being endowed with Slayer strength made it so damn easy, so that was a definite perk.

&&&&&&

With his guardian as the librarian—random legal papers said he could call him "Dad", but it was a small thing he didn't pay attention to—William was at Sunnydale High early, in serious defiance against the way of first days at any school. And instead of spending a good amount of time milling about the halls aimlessly while resisting the temptation to bury himself in books, the boy was called up to the Principal to get that introductory…thing out of the way.

William found Flutie nice enough, became a little amused and embarrassed on his behalf once he came across the whole burning down the gym at his last school, never mind that it was all the way in England—god, he missed England. But the boy figured the feeling would pass, more likely gambling that it would. Such as it was, the Principal kept him in long enough so that when he was finally released—with a suitably numb brain—William found the school finally alive, and it was only then that it occurred to him how small it all was.

He didn't mingle, just watched the crowds, and his brain went all over the place, wondering if such observation was a warning of stalker-hood. Books all settled, locker check and ready for use, about ten more minutes before the bell rang, a bloody racket everywhere…and here William was, back in the Principal's office; actually, more like waiting to return. He had already gotten into a fight, and of course was the only one caught and sent to wait in the hall for some disciplinary crap; him, and a girl he hadn't even seen in the events leading up to the fight, so she must've gotten dragged in or something. The familiar, unwelcome feeling of guilt welled up inside.

"Don't sweat it, always love a good brawl," the girl said flippantly, waving off his stuttered apology as she flipped back her curly waves of dark hair, nestling more comfortably into bright plastic chairs; she reminded William of a feline, something he tried to curb, since he loved cats. Definitely older than him, hopefully not one that would at the very least twitch at his Freshman status; skin-tight tank top seemed to clash with her pale skin in its whiteness, her black leather pants were very shiny; she was seriously, freakin' tall and long.

"Name's Faith." The girl leaned back in the chair, arms folded behind her head, eyes looking down at him slyly. "You're new here, aren't you?" William just nodded, mumbling his name.

"So, any reason you picked a fight with Larry and his guys?" He was oblivious and unaware that under normal circumstances, Faith wouldn't show any sort of interest in him outside of his shortness, but the way he handled himself in the fight really caught her attention. (And his shyness gave her the exciting impression of something to dig out, so she was keen on interrogating.) "Or are you just on the list of suicidal statistics?" The thought flashed hazily: Faith found William looked rather cute when all offended, it was the way his eyes sparked.

"Do I look like the kinda guy who'd pick a fight?"

"Well, you'll definitely the kinda guy who enjoys it." William grudgingly smiled, finding Faith perceptive, but hoped she wasn't too perceptive…or more like he wouldn't be too obvious. ("It's imperative you keep this a secret, anyone else involved will be endangered by such knowledge...")

A lengthy silence, then: "So, British, huh?"

"Uh-huh. Boston?" Before the question could be answered, they were finally admitted in. For his part, William was apprehensive, though he tried to keep his face blank; he did appreciate Faith's holier-than-thou attitude, as if the whole thing was an inconvenience to her, yet a small joke nonetheless. (Definitely older than him.)

The Principal narrowed in on him completely, flustering over the fire that had been across the bloody planet, and the boy did not appreciate the way her eyes lit up at the news. (William had to resist the urge to go to the wall and bang his head repeatedly against it, as was his habit to do under unbearable stupidity, either internal or external.) He then went on about Faith, but not focusing on her per se, William was still front-and-center: Flutie labeled her as a "bad influence", one of the worst, the most vile, most wicked and wretched, blah blah blah—smoking, blah blah blah—run-ins with police—blah blah blah—no socializing zone, stay clear of her—blah blah blah.

The girl had a Cheshire cat smile all the while.

&&&&&&

"So, going to class after all?" William paused, finally realizing that his body had prepared itself for a mad dash; he turned back and rubbed his neck, abashed.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have just bolted on you like that—"

Faith just tilted her head, smiling. "Relax; it's not like we're married or anything." She caught off her laugh with a hand to her mouth and an averted head as the boy blushed deeply. Another hazy thought flashing: Will was too much of a little kid, could only be Freshman, maybe even someone skipping grades—he looked like a brain.

"You ditch often?" He walked step for step with the girl, looking over his class program again.

"Pretty much." She looked down at him from the corner of her eye, giving him another sly look. "Don't feel like today though." Her eyes became more calculating, reading William's schedule over his shoulder; he looked up at Faith as she stabbed a finger at the sickeningly bright yellow paper, giving him directions to his first class, at least. "When school breaks, meet me **inside** the girls' bathroom." Faith just waved off his narrowed eyes as she left him alone in the hall.

&&&&&&

Rupert Giles glared at the obnoxious pink paper for the hundredth time, then settled back to work. He still paid more than half a mind to it as he attended to his librarian and Watcher duties. (Cataloguing science texts, researching the Hellmouth.)

Why bloody notify him of his charge's fight and not drag him over for…well, scolding, what else would he do? (He was close enough.) Yet Giles was one for rationalizing; the Principal wants him to concentrate on his first day on the job, there was some inane policy instituted—he could only be satisfied by the fact that this matter would not be closed with William.

Then he cursed when he realized that the current portentous signs of a sinister nature occurring here on the Hellmouth could effectively overshadow the boy's transgression. It is simply logic; wouldn't one forget his charge's slip-up in the face of lethal danger? Never mind that said charge was in trouble for fighting when his very nature is built for such violent tendencies but that doesn't give him a free reign and—Giles would just wait and see.

The man flipped a bulky tome shut, sighing. He took off his glasses, held them up, analyzing; then took out a kerchief, began wiping off dust. Unbidden, his eyes slipped toward some of William's transcription papers, those he hadn't gotten around to filing away.

"Mother: Julia Thorne (deceased)"

Everything was a mess.


	2. Chapter 2

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer 

Title: True Inversion

Rating: PG-13

Genre: General

Summary: The inner workings of a 'verse in which Buffy is a Master Vampire, while Spike is the Slayer, though never with a grand cause in mind—just a deep interest in the world's supply of onion flower, bad TV, etc., etc...

Notes: Well, I feel like I've been writing like mad. And all the visual images I keep getting of this story keeps tempting me to just draw it out into a comic and host it on photobucket, but my drawing skills are seriously rusty...

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Chapter 2

"Mr. William Jack Thorne." The boy looked up through bleary eyes, then widened and sat straight up when it registered with him that his freakin' history teacher knew his middle name. Obviously, it would be on roll call, any of the numerous papers she would have on him, the documents she could look up on the computer…but just taking human nature into account, you don't expect teachers to commit **your sodding middle name** to memory. ("What, you're saying Jack's too boring a name? It was my Father's—your Grandfather, of course...")

He pretty much tuned out her brief lecture, something about disappointment in him in light of his "stellar" grades all the way in London's Central High, another thing about this class being too boring for him—hell, he just…slept rough last night, that's all. (Giles' picking into his dreams this morning didn't help that much either.)

Staying awake, the rest of the class passed uneventfully, prattling on about the Black Plague. William hurried out with the rest of the lot once the bell rang, finally feeling thankful that he'd gotten away without any detention. As he made a beeline for Faith's restroom, the boy promised himself that the rest of the day at school would go smoothly…a half-hearted promise at least, he was realistic enough.

The first thing that hit him once he opened the stick-figure-girl inscribed door was the smell; William was thankful it was just the scent of tobacco. Faith flashed the boy a smirk, then crushed the cigarette under heel, and led him out into the school's quad.

It struck William that this was probably the first normal conversation he'd had since being called as the "Chosen One." ("Just a fancy way of saying you won the lottery, I take it? Just minus all the money and glamour and switch it with ridiculous superhero duty.") Of course, the boy never had a good track record of conversing with others to begin with, so talking to Faith was even more of a breakthrough; girl was very open, able to crack his shell with a fair amount of ease.

Faith gave what advice she could about Sunnydale High, like info on Queen C's clique, Willow's one of the top five students you should go to for tutoring, what teachers too look out for, who to get in good with; they learned that, yes, he was Freshman, she Sophomore. William admitted to the new librarian being his guardian after profusely explaining that no, he's not my Dad, guy died before I could meet him, which in turn got her saying she was an experienced orphan, but nothing more. And then there was just random talk about food and music and TV. Something to remember: "After school, meet me at the Bronze; it's about the only fun place in this grand ol' Dale—the fact that it's in the bad part of town makes its appeal obvious…which is about a block away from the good part of town; I'll be there for awhile, so don't get too hung up on punctuality." Occasionally William would notice the people stealing quick looks aimed his way and gossiping about him the whole time, non-stop; the things a small town like Sunnyhell leach onto and suck and suck until nothing was left, and **everyone** was just having a bloody field day with his gym fire. ("Giles, just make the cover story easier and have the Council classify me as a certifiable pyromaniac, 'kay?")

Instead of banging his head into a nearby tree, William rolled his eyes as he heard someone babble obnoxiously loud, "And Harm, P.E. got all cancelled because of the totally dead guy stuffed in the locker room, and he had these even weirder holes in his neck..."

Faith just smiled at the puppy-dog eyes William gave her as he excused himself. (She could see he wasn't trying to get away from her, she doubted he could even make an actual lie at all.) The girl just waved him off with a "See ya' at the Bronze," and the boy tried to take his leave as casually as possible, but then he just snapped and ran like hell for the gym…which he would **not** be burning anytime soon. Hopefully.

&&&&&&

Giles stared holes into the back of William's scruffy head as he prattled on with that Willow girl, who seemed nice enough but the boy just burst in here with clearly imperative news, then suddenly turned all gabby with her once he noticed her seating at the table going over some "Treatise" book and—Giles would calm down and wait. (At least William could be credited with at initially cutting off his news shyly and appropriately freaked; and even settling himself down with the red head in an attempt at casual for secret identity's sake, but things just went downhill—Watcher perspective, anyway—when they both ran full speed into endless talking. All right, even more points for having an intelligent discussion with the girl that wasn't drivel.)

Finally the man had enough, stepping in: "I'm sorry Willow, but I'm afraid I need William alone for a moment..." William slumped down into folded arms, entire expression sulky, while the girl looked up at him, all red and eyes wide.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Oh no, it's quite all right, it's just right now—"

"Um, yeah, you probably want to talk to Will 'bout the fight with Larry—"

Willow was incredibly skilled at showing herself of wanting to shrivel up and slip through a crack in the floor; William just bit his lip and determinedly looked away from his guardian. "I didn't mean—I wasn't trying to be all nosey, honest, it's just all over the school—" emerald eyes widened as Willow noticed the boy finally meeting Giles' stare, both Englishmen dissolving into a glaring match "—but it wasn't Will's fault, I mean it probably wasn't, I didn't see, just heard, that's all—Larry, see, he's really big, and Will's just really small, and the big have a thing for picking on the small and…I'm just not helping here at all, so I better go before I make things worse." Both the Slayer and Watcher's attention wavered from each other, staring at Willow in awkward silence. "Bye." She scurried away with a wave over her shoulder, and William couldn't help but feel that the door's closing sounded suspiciously like being sealed tightly in.

"Itwasavampire," the boy provided quickly, hoping to cut off any beginnings of a lecture with business. Given that Giles had adapted to William's sometimes jumbled quick babble, he understood for the most part, though he still stared for clarification.

"In the school." He went slower this time. Giles still stared.

The boy gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes: "You want more detail? Fine, but there's not much to tell; overheard gossip about a dead guy in the girl's locker room, went to check it out—lo-and-behold, my old friend, Mr. Caution Tape. No police on guard, probably takin' their lunch too, so got in easily; found the piece of gossip I heard wasn't embellished in the least, there was the 'totally dead' guy, tell-tale vampire marks on the neck."

Giles sighed, leaning against a chair and taking out his glasses for another dust-off. "Do you know if he'll rise?"

"No way I can tell if he sucked blood too." William was quiet now, having slipped out his stake, twirling it around. "Think I should stalk and wait for him to rise, then take care of him, or just chop his head off in the morgue?" Giles looked away from his gaze thoughtfully. (Julia's son looked so damn **small**.)

"We may have to leave this one be and look at the bigger picture."

"Now that's not ominous at all." He rubbed his eyes before placing his glasses back on; the boy's sarcasm was tiresome, but sometimes it was best to just let it drop.

&&&&&&

William had found Giles' explanation to be rather…lacking. ("All right, signs say that something's bad gonna happen here—it being a Hellmouth and all—but we don't know what; I'd go on, but you'll probably going to vague it up for me some more.") They argued, the boy returned to classes, went back to the library and didn't leave school at all until homework finished. From there, it was just straight to patrol, more arguing between him and his Watcher, vamps staked with no leads of everyone's impending doom. Finally, an awkward, quiet dinner back at the apartment. Giles seemed about to say something, so William quickly took his finished plate and rushed up the stairs to his room. The boy waited a moment, ears waiting for the sounds of encroaching footsteps should the man be determined enough to say whatever he had in mind; nothing, and William crept out his window carefully, climbing down the adjacent tree. (Such an architectural arrangement is a universal phenomenon.)

It was…nice, the walk, to say the least. The nightly darkness was pretty to look at, and the temperature was coolly comforting.

_Angel kept the Slayer's scent trained, and his pace quickened._


End file.
